Phyllis
by Dearheart
Summary: Susan could never have guessed that the nerdy kid at the train station would someday be her husband... The story of why Susan chose an ordinary man over a dashing prince. Giftfic for violamom and goofydad!
1. The Most Noble Order of the Cookie

**A/N: Enough with Suspian! It's time for something new!!**

Happy belated anniversary, mom and dad! You both know how much I hate romance, but this stupid plot bunny wouldn't let go of me. I kept thinking of how freakin' tired I was of Suspian, and how funny it would be if she wound up with that nerd in the movie, and how Dad is the nerd and Mom is the Susan...so, yeah. I caved. Pardon me if the writing is rough and the romance is awful; I've never done anything like this before.

So it is with much love that I grudgingly present to you this giftfic...

* * *

_**Phyllis**_

--

Chapter 1: The Most Noble Order of the Cookie

"I hope it stays clear tonight," Susan murmured, glancing out the window as she swept the last of the cookie-dough crumbs off the countertop. A light breeze ruffled the lace curtains, mixing fresh air with the warm, sweet aroma that filled the room, and the radio crackled cheerfully in the background.

The kitchen was a marvelous place when cookies were baking.

"They smell so good, Mummy..."

"Mmm, they do." She knelt down with her daughter to admire the golden-brown delights. "And look, Lucy! They're almost done. You're going to have a lot on your hands, guarding those from your father...oh dear, Andrew's fussing again."

She sighed and stood to her feet, took a baby bottle from the counter and went over to deal with the screaming two-year-old in the highchair.

A gust of wind blew through the house as the front door swung open and closed again with a bang.

"I'm home!"

"Daddy!" Lucy shrieked joyfully and ran out to greet him. Catching the girl up in his strong arms, the father grinned and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"How's my little Lulu doing today?"

"Mummy made chocolate chip cookies!" said Lucy, an eager gleam in her big blue eyes.

"Did she now? Mmm, they smell scrumptious," he added, breathing in the smells of chocolate and vanilla that filled the house.

"Uh-huh. She told me to guard the cookies to make sure you don't eat too many."

"Your mummy knows me too well," he chuckled. "They _are_ my favorite."

"She even tubbed me a Knight of a Mose Noble Order of the Cookie with her rolling pin!"

He blinked and adjusted his glasses. "Susan did what?"

"She tubbed me a Knight—"

"...Of the Most Noble Order of the Cookie," finished Susan, grinning and wiping her floury hands on her apron as she came out to greet the two of them. "And it's 'dubbed', Lucy; not 'tubbed'...and thank heavens, a knight in shining armor at last." A fresh outburst of screams and tears emitted from the kitchen and she sighed wearily, rubbing her temples. "Warren, your son is being impossible."

"Oh dear." He leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss. "Does my fair maiden need to be rescued and swept off her feet?" he whispered.

"Yes she does," said Susan, a whiff of aftershave and cologne brushing her senses as she kissed him back.

"Ewww, stop kissing!" Lucy wriggled in his arms and made a face.

"It's our anniversary and I have every right to kiss your mother," said Warren, making a face back at his daughter and giving Susan another long smooch to prove his point.

"It's gross!" protested Lucy. "Eww!"

"Oh go run along and wash up," laughed Susan, taking the disgusted five-year-old from Warren's arms and setting her on the ground. "Dinner's almost ready and Mrs. Bennet will be here soon to look after you. Go on, shoo."

"Okay, but--eeep! No more kissing! Gross, gross, _gross_," Lucy chanted as she covered her face and flounced to the washroom.

Warren grinned and took Susan in his arms.

"GROSS!" Lucy yelled from the bathroom.

"I just hope she keeps thinking that until she's thirty." Warren whispered. Susan giggled and pecked her husband on the cheek.

He suddenly gave her a bemused look. "And since when has there been a Most Noble Order of the Cookie?"

"Since I made it up," she said, trying hard to keep a straight face. "And it _is_ a serious matter."

"Is it?" His brown eyes twinkled as he pulled her closer. "Then I'd like to be a Knight of the Cookie, too."

"Maybe later, bookworm," teased Susan, batting his nose and turning to go upstairs. "But for now, I am otherwise occupied."

"Fine then, _Phyllis._ A happy 7th anniversary to you, too..."

"Oh shut it." Susan turned back and threw a dishtowel at him. "We have to leave in two hours! You should be getting ready, not pining after cookies and knighthood."

"I don't need two whole hours to get ready," he said, neatly catching the towel and raising his eyebrows. "Unlike _some_ people."

Susan held up her chin and sent him a queenly glare. "Then do your beloved bride a favor and tame the two-year-old dragon while 'some people' make themselves presentable."

"Your wish is my command, darling Susan!" He swept her a dramatic bow and strode past her into the kitchen, whistling a cheery "Rule Britannia".

His wife rolled her eyes, chuckled to herself and ran her fingertips over the smooth, wooden banister as she made her way up the stairs. She closed the bedroom door behind her and rummaged through her closet, half humming to herself.

"I wonder if this still fits me..." She took out a glamorous dress of red satin and held up against herself as she looked in the mirror. Gazing at her reflection for a moment, Susan smiled.

She could never have guessed that seven years ago, today, she would be married to that nerdy kid she met at the train station...

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**A/N:** Oh yes...I would like to thank H. Max Marius (Cherokee) for helping me with this first chapter! Thanks so much, Cheeky! You've been a great help and encouragement to me!

And if you readers would be so kind as to leave a review and let me know how I'm doing with this or if there's anything I could improve on...gosh, I'd love you. And no, not all of this will be fluffy. Some parts will get pretty angsty...but after all, you have to get through the angst before things can get happy and fluffy, right? :-)


	2. Unwanted Attention

**A/N:** Wow! Thanks for all the feedback, guys! You've all made me feel so much better about this idea. I'm inspired and on a roll!

**Lucy:** Amen! Nerds are DEFINITELY better than princes! And I'll try not to get writer's block, lol.

**lady knight keladry:** Heehee, I've always liked him too! Great to know I've scored a point or two in the creativity category! As for your question, yes...almost all these next few chapters will be flashbacks.

**Claire Henry:** The overload of Suspian makes me want to cry, too. And I'm flattered that you can't stop reviewing, teehee! Thanks for the positive comments and your thoughts on the movie. If you had an account, I'd PM you and talk more. :-)

**Dana Skywalker:** If you happen to show up in the TLC chatroom when I'm in there, be prepared for a bunch of hugtackles!!

**Myr:** Wow, thank you! I'm so happy you enjoyed this story! (winks and uses the actual flame to toast a marshmallow...) Psst...if you'd really like me to debate you, clear up your clouded understanding of my views and explain my "hypocrisy", get a real account so I can PM you and not waste space in my author's notes. (winks again)

I'll reply to the rest of you un-anonymous people when I can! Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter; I'm amazed that this is getting so many reviews already! I feel all warm and fuzzy inside...

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Chapter 2: Unwanted Attention

_London__, 1941_

The smell of after-rain and exhaust fumes hung in the air, mingling with the brisk clamor of people hurrying and taxi cabs zipping past. The street was slightly damaged in places and unsmiling soldiers marched to and fro, making repairs and getting ready for the next possible bombing. Greasy puddles held colorless reflections of the tall gray buildings that loomed overhead, occasionally rippling whenever a drop of drizzle happened to fall from the cloudy sky.

Ordinary.

Drab, dull, gray and ordinary. The city around her somehow seemed determined to blot out any spark of magic that found its way in. Dreariness pressed at her, closed in on her, whispered to her..._Be ordinary again, be ordinary_...

Unlike her siblings, Susan had long ago given up trying to fight it. Narnia had made her extraordinary for a time, but now she was back in her own average world and there was nothing she could do but try to move on. This was home now, and it was no use pretending any different.

She took a moment to pick up a magazine that she wasn't interested in and flipped through it, moving over slightly so she wouldn't be in the way of the person next to her. She snuck a peek out of the corner of her eye and noticed with dismay that it was...a boy. A very geeky boy who looked far too interested in her for comfort.

She bit back a groan as he faced her and brightly said,

"You go to St. Finbar's."

Well, no doubt about his interest now. Susan cringed inwardly and forced a smile.

"That's right."

"I go to Hendon House. Across the road."

She didn't answer and stared at the magazine, hoping he would take the hint. But instead, he looked at her with more of that unnerving eagerness in his eyes.

"I've seen you," he commented, a tinge of sympathy in his voice. "Sitting by yourself."

"Yes, well...I prefer to be left alone," replied Susan, deftly dropping another hint.

"Me too!" he exclaimed, an oblivious smile on his face. (Susan tried not to roll her eyes.) "What's your name?"

She hesitated a moment. She'd had enough trouble fitting in at school. If word got out that _he_ fancied _her_, what little reputation she had would be dashed. So she did the only thing she could do.

She turned and gave him a name.

"Phyllis."

"Phyllis," he repeated, his smile widening. He held out his hand. "My name is..."

"Susan!" Lucy ran up to Susan and tugged on her sleeve, panic in her face. "It's Peter! You'd better come quickly!"

Susan sighed (not knowing if it was in irritation or relief) and dashed across the street to the station with her sister, desperately hoping the boy hadn't heard her real name and feeling a slight twinge of guilt for lying to him.

--

Warren's hand fell to his side. He watched her go for a moment; then turned away with sagging shoulders.

What _had_ he been thinking? Practically everyone – his classmates, his peers – had labeled him an outsider, a nobody. Why should Phyllis be any different? Why had he gotten his hopes up?

He couldn't deny that he slightly fancied her. She was beautiful and smart; anyone could see that. But it wasn't so much attraction as it was a longing to reach out. He'd been watching her for a while and noticed that she rarely smiled. She almost always sat by herself and it appeared she had no one to talk to or laugh with. And just minutes ago, when he'd seen her eyes...they seemed somewhat dull and sad, like a fire that used to be there had died away.

She was an outsider, too. And he'd hoped that somehow, they could be outsiders together.

But yet again, hopes were dashed...and he was alone.

Well no, not completely alone. Warren had friends. They were few (and usually much older than him), but true-hearted; and he was grateful for them.

"At any rate," he muttered to himself, "I'd rather be a nobody with a few good friends than a somebody with a lot of false ones."

The thought took the edge off his disappointment, and he shrugged away the rest. He'd get over it, as always; and he needn't worry about Phyllis anymore. She probably didn't want him around, anyway.

_But she needs you, __Warren__._

He sighed. That stupid, nagging little voice in the back of his mind refused to go away. And he couldn't shake off the feeling that she _did_ need him...or that she was going to need him. It was that feeling, that voice, that had made him come up to her in the first place.

_Don't give up on her. She needs a friend._

But why him? She had hardly spoken to him; she didn't _want_ to speak to him...

_Go after her, __Warren__. **Go.**_

He took off his glasses and polished them against his scarf, shaking his head incredulously. This was crazy.

But his train was due any minute. He'd have to go over there anyway.

_Catch the train and **go to her.**_

Feeling terribly awkward and not at all brave, he pushed his glasses up on his nose again, pulled himself together and crossed the street with suitcase in hand.

--

"Really, is it _that_ hard to walk away?" The tussle was over, and Susan was annoyed.

"They bullied me first!" protested Peter. "I tried to walk away, but they wouldn't let me! And anyway, I shouldn't have to put up with..."

She gave him a reproving look. Peter sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"You're right. I'm sorry Susan, it's just – hard. The hostility, the ridicule, the patronizing…I mean, don't you ever get tired of being treated like a kid?"

Edmund gave a humorless laugh. "Peter, we _are_ kids."

"But we didn't used to be," said Peter, fists clenched in frustration. "We were…we were…"

"I know, Peter," said Susan gently. "We all know. But that's in the past now, and I think it's time to accept that we live _here_."

Peter came back to the bench and sat down with slumped shoulders.

"Boarding school. I can't think of anything more dreary at the moment."

"I'm…I'm a bit nervous about it," said Lucy in a small voice. Susan smiled, relieved that the conversation was turning to a different subject, and she squeezed her sister's hand.

"It's your first time going. I was nervous too."

"As was I," said Peter, also smiling. "You'll be great, Lu. Every bit as valiant and brave as you were in Narnia."

"And I'll be there whenever you need me," said Susan.

Lucy flashed them a grateful smile. "Thanks."

A moment passed, and Susan leaned back in her seat to let her eyes wander around. She glanced to her left…and her heart sank.

"Oh no." She caught sight of the boy she'd met earlier weaving his way through the crowd towards them. Towards _her_. She had to think fast.

"Quick," she hissed, grabbing Peter's arm and glancing desperately at the others. "Pretend to be talking to me."

"We _are_ talking to you," said Edmund, giving her a perplexed look.

Susan glared. "You know what I mean…"

"Ow!" Lucy jumped up, a startled look in her eyes.

"Now then, don't overdo it Lu," said Susan in exasperation.

"But something pinched me!"

"Ow! I say!" exclaimed Edmund, abruptly standing to his feet. "That hurt!"

"What on earth...? Susan, let go! Where are you dragging me?"

"I'm not touching you, Peter," gasped Susan, struggling against some unseen force and trying not to panic. "Someone is pulling _me_!"

A strange haze clouded her mind and her vision went blurry.

"Quick!" she heard Edmund shout. "Everyone catch hands and keep together. This is Magic!"

She blindly grabbed for Peter and Lucy's hands, and the only thing she knew was the pinching and pulling and tugging, the power that was dragging her to nowhere. She was dimly aware of a train roaring past and a ringing in her ears…flashes of a foreign landscape…a white light growing brighter and brighter…Hope...

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, due to the whole nerdy kid vs. Caspian thing, this fic will be movie-verse with lotsa bookverse thrown in to "fix" the movieverse things I hate, lol. I hope no one minds...I almost feel like I'm betraying people... (bites lip) Stay tuned! More next week, hopefully!


	3. Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained?

**A/N:** Okay guys...here's the deal. This chapter has some slight Suspian in it.

No-no-no, DON'T FREAK OUT. I need you to trust me, okay? I'm still as anti Suspian as ever (and believe me, it was painful to write), but things will make sense later on. For now, suffice it to say that it will make things a lot more powerful when it comes to the later Susan/Warren stuff. So just bear with me and trust that I have my head screwed on straight, alright? Good.

Now sit back, relax, and enjoy this next installment...

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Chapter 3: Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained?

"Aargh, I'm going to be late...excuse me...sorry miss..."

Warren dodged his way through the crowds, mentally kicking himself for not keeping better track of the clock and wishing he had time to slow down. He wanted a moment to think.

Glancing this way and that, he strained to catch a glimpse of Phyllis; but it was nearly impossible to pick out any particular face in this chaos.

"Just get to the train," he mumbled under his breath. "Catch the train and _then_ worry about her."

He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the echoing wail of the train approaching and relaxed his pace, allowing himself to walk with the flow of people instead of pushing through it. He was right on time.

As the train pulled in with a great hiss and a cloud of steam, he caught a flash of the girl's maroon school uniform just ahead of him. Warren smiled in triumph as he realized she was on the same train as him – then as he got closer, he noticed she was standing up with three other children, holding hands with a boy and a girl and looking very odd. Her jaw was clenched, her body tense and her face alight with an eerie mixture of shock, confusion and desperate hope. He watched as they stood there, rigid, frozen...and then he blinked and rubbed his eyes, for he could have sworn he saw them _flicker_. They were there one moment, disappeared for a split second like a blip on a radar and suddenly blipped back, as if they'd never been gone!

Shaking his head, he took off his confounded glasses and stared at them skeptically before putting them on again. It probably wouldn't hurt to save up for a new pair.

Warren boarded the train, still clutching his suitcase; and as he turned back, he saw Phyllis and the others still standing there, looking a bit dazed.

"Aren't you coming, Phyllis?" he asked.

The two boys and the younger girl glanced at her, confusion in their faces; then they all grabbed their luggage and came aboard.

The dark-haired boy rummaged through his satchel, frowning. Warren guessed he must have misplaced something, for he exclaimed,

"Oh bother!"

"What's wrong, Edmund?" asked the youngest girl.

"I've left my new torch in Narnia!"

Warren had no idea where or what "Narnia" was and felt a bit perplexed, but the others seemed very amused and laughed at the boy's remark. As the doors slid shut and the train jerked forward, he chose not to worry about it.

He swallowed and pursed his lips, wracking his brains and trying to figure out what on earth he was going to say to Phyllis. Should he say something profound, or just make small talk, or simply give her a friendly smile? Good grief, why was he so afraid? After all, she was a human being, just like him; it shouldn't be that hard to talk to her!

But to his utmost shock, without even thinking about it, he found himself moving up next to her and holding his hand out.

"I'm sorry Phyllis, I never introduced myself. My name is Warren."

The eldest boy gave her a funny look. "Phyllis?"

"Peter, never mind," she hissed at him. The boy raised his eyebrows, the hint of an amused smile playing on his lips, and he turned to talk with the other two.

She faced Warren and gave a small smile, cold and polite, and shook his hand. "Very nice to meet you."

He smiled back, trying to ignore the fact the she was _only_ being polite; and he noticed that her eyes now had that life in them he felt was missing before…but it was mingled with fresh pain and regret. He wondered what had happened in so short a time to cause that.

Warren decided to save those thoughts for later and cleared his throat.

"So…how were your hols?"

"Brilliant," she answered shortly.

"Oh."

His heart sank; it was painfully clear she did _not_ want to talk. But he didn't want to leave her without doing what he could.

"Um…Phyllis?"

"Yes?" she sighed. He cringed, but something in the tone of her voice told him that there was sadness underneath the ice. He swallowed his embarrassment and blurted,

"Look, I just want you to know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll…I'll, um…I-I'll be there."

She blinked. Obviously, she hadn't expected that. But she gave him a smile that wasn't so cold as before, and said,

"Thanks. And…I'm sorry," she added in a rueful tone. "Sorry for snapping at you. It was beastly of me and you've been very nice. So thank you."

"You're welcome." He smiled back, and his spirits lifted. Giving her a nod of farewell, he left her side to find another spot. It wasn't quite everything he'd hoped for, but it was enough.

He'd done what he could, and he was satisfied.

--

"I'm going to miss Peter and Ed," murmured Lucy, waving sadly to the boys out the window as the train started off once more. "I wish boarding school could have boys and girls together so we wouldn't have to split up."

Susan put an arm around her sister and said nothing. She would miss them too. She'd miss…everything.

It wasn't fair.

"I'm glad that you're with me, Susan." Lucy snuggled closer and smiled up at her. "I couldn't bear being all by myself."

Susan tried to smile, but she couldn't keep her voice from shaking. "I-I'm glad you're with me too."

Lucy gave little sympathetic "Ohh!" and hugged her tight, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Oh Susan, I wish I could do something—_anything _ to make you happy."

"Don't worry about me," whispered Susan, hugging her back and viciously fighting back tears.

"But I _am_! And I don't want you to despair, I _don't_," said Lucy, fierce lion-fire in her eyes as she pulled away and squeezed Susan's shoulder. "I won't let you…"

"Lucy, it's all right." Susan managed a watery smile and tried to sound reassuring. "I'll be fine in a day or so, you'll see." Though whether she was trying to reassure Lucy or herself, she couldn't tell.

"Just remember I'm here," said Lucy, hope and anxiety in her face. "And you can talk and laugh and cry with me anytime you need to."

_"…If you ever need someone to talk to…I'll be there."_

What had his name been? Warren? She pushed the thought away (for really, she was fine and didn't need to "talk" to anyone) and leaned over to kiss the top of her sister's head.

"Now don't you fret over me. Boarding school is minutes away, and I'm determined to let nothing spoil this new adventure for you."

"I just hope it's better then my old school," said Lucy, wrinkling her nose. "_That_ place was simply horrid. Hardly any trees or grass at all; it was all hard, grey concrete."

Susan chuckled. "Well then, you'll love this place. It has lots of trees and a big grassy place for picnics. Mind you," she added with a stern look, "I don't want you running around all crazy and getting skinned knees and dirty clothes."

"I shall try to restrain myself," giggled Lucy. Rolling her eyes, Susan smiled and leaned back to catch a quick nap before the trip ended. She felt better already; all she had to do was not think about…things, and she'd be all right in no time.

But that night, when Lucy was gone and the roommates were asleep and all was dark and silent, her strength broke. The memories jabbed at her mind like hot pokers; painful, vivid, sharp. No matter how much she tossed and turned and shoved them away, they came back to taunt her, reminding her of what she could never return to.

Tears spilled over as the worst scene replayed in her head…

_"I wish we'd had more time together."_

_ "It never would have worked, anyway."_

But it could have; it _could have! _

And as the "could-have's" and "what-ifs" haunted her, a ghost of a whisper passed Susan's lips...

"Caspian."

...and she silently cried herself to sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** (glares at all the tittering Suspian fangirls) DON'T get any ideas. If you think for one second that Susan and Caspian will get back "2gether" and live "liek happly evr after, lolz!!1", you are SO wrong...

As for the rest of you...I know, you're gagging by now. Believe, this wasn't easy for ME, either...again, you have to trust me. Fear not, my valiant Narnians! I have not betrayed you!


	4. Frogs and Princes

_**Chapter 4: Frogs and Princes**_

_Hendon House, 1942_

"What's in the bag this time, bookworm?"

Rough hands seized his shoulders and pushed him out of the way, snatching his book bag in the process.

Warren stumbled backwards from the impact and pushed his disoriented glasses back up on his nose. Being picked on was not something new to him.

It was the usual three: the biggest boy, Jackson Trelawney, cool, confident and condescending to the point of being infuriating; and two others, a redhead and a sandy blond that always tagged along with him and did the "work", smirking and snickering over every smart remark he made. Warren could never remember their names. (Not that he _wanted_ to.) But Jackson was the leader, the "golden boy" who got A's without studying, won every rugby match and winked at the girls across the street. He _never_ got caught.

Over time, Warren had learned not to care anymore and ignored them if he could. It _was_ aggravating and he'd love nothing more than to develop some muscle and give them what-for; but the less response they got out of him, the less they were interested in tormenting him. And besides, he knew that if he tried to fight fire with fire, all he'd get was a bigger fire than the first one.

He sighed and watched in wounded silence as the three of them casually poked through his well-loved book bag, hoping faintly that they wouldn't find the present he'd bought for his sister. Her 8th birthday would be next week, and he'd bought her a gorgeous, brand-new illustrated book of fairy tales. He wished he could be there to see her eyes light up when she opened the parcel...but he was stuck here, at Hendon House, and the thought of anyone spoiling that book was very unsettling.

Hopes were in vain. The boys hooted gleefully as Jackson pulled it from Warren's bag with a smirk.

"Aww, what's this?" He clucked his tongue. "'_The Frog Prince and Other Tales_'... I didn't know you secretly read fairy stories and sucked your thumb."

The two other boys burst out laughing.

"Did your frenchie grandmother give it to you, bookworm?" jeered the redhead, a spiteful grin plastered across his freckle-face.

Warren clenched his jaw as a spark of indignation flared up in him. It was his one sore spot. His grandmother _was_ French; a regal, quiet woman with busy hands and a gentle voice…and eyes that could pierce right through you. A glance and a word from Grandmere and they wouldn't dare throw their taunting names at her.

Determined to not give them the satisfaction of getting angry, he let the insult bounce off him and instead focused his attention on the book they were flipping through.

"Leave it alone. It's for my sister..."

"Does _she_ suck her thumb, too?"

"Haha, look!" The blond-haired boy jabbed a finger at an illustration in the book. "The frog looks rather like the bookworm, doesn't he?"

The redhead snorted. "Big surprise. Ribbit, ribbit."

"Well of _course_ he's a frog," said Jackson in his awful, calm manner, casting a mock smile of sympathy at Warren. "He hasn't kissed a princess yet. He couldn't kiss one even if he tried, the poor fellow."

Warren felt glum, and he couldn't help thinking ruefully of Phyllis. It was true; every word. He was a hopeless frog, doomed to be one forever. No "princess" would ever want him.

And just then, like golden sunlight gradually flooding a dark room...a vague idea came to him.

"That's...not how it worked," he said slowly, thinking furiously and processing the words as they took shape in his mind. A thoughtful smile played on his lips as little by little, the idea became clearer.

"Oh, listen _carefully_." Jackson winked at the other two. "The frog's having a revelation." Right on cue, they snickered.

A twinge of doubt pricked him. What was he _doing?_ They'd beat him up for sure…oh, but the looks on their faces would be worth it…

Warren continued, amazed at what he was daring to say to them and feeling a tingle of triumph as he spoke.

"The frog didn't become a prince by kissing the princess. He was patient and persistent. He was kind and faithful to her and treated her right, even when she was awful to him. And it was only when she kept her promise and chose to give her love to the frog that he became a prince. I-It wasn't conquest; it was compassion."

He paused a moment to calm the adrenaline coursing through his veins, elation and fear battling within him, then gathered up his new-found courage and raised his eyebrows at them.

"I guess that makes you the frogs."

Jackson's face flushed slightly. The two boys cast each other a look as he narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, letting the book drop to the ground with a menacing _thump_.

Suffice it to say that Warren walked away with the book relatively undamaged…as well as bent glasses and the finest black eye you ever saw.

He felt immensely pleased with himself.

-:-

"Oh Susan, you'll _never_ guess what happened with Jackson and Linda..."

Susan leaned her elbow on the windowsill, chin in hand, smiling as she listened to her friend's latest piece of chattering gossip. Mary-Lou's giggly obsession with who liked who in school had been maddening at first; but over the year, Susan had grown used to it.

Susan had changed.

The trip to America had been just what she needed to keep her mind off her troubles. The flash and excitement of New York, the buzzing streets, the Broadway dazzle and glitz, the cocky swing and swagger in all the voices...it was all so delicious; a new, refreshing delight from what she knew in her war-torn England. The distractions were a welcome relief for Susan and she clung to them tightly, making her mind too busy to dwell on unpleasant things.

She came back from that trip with an outgoing sparkle in her eyes and a trunk full of the latest fashions, her head too full of stars to have room for unwanted memories. It used to be hard for her to fit in with the groups of tittering, empty-headed schoolgirls, but the sociable imprint that New York had left on Susan now helped her to branch out more and learn what "worked" and what didn't.

"...and then Linda snuck back to her room and she had _no_ idea that I'd seen them together. And she _still_ doesn't know," Mary-Lou sniggered, covering her mouth with a mischievous hand and trailing off into mindless giggles. Susan chuckled (she wasn't _quite _into giggling yet) and took a moment to glance out the window. As always, the sky was cloudy and the lawn was smooth and green, a few hints of autumn-gray beginning to creep over it. Here and there, girls could be seen strolling arm-in-arm or talking in tight little groups; heads together, then apart again as they laughed over something.

One girl in particular caught her eye; a blond-haired figure doing carefree cartwheels across the grass, earning smiles from some and disapproving glances from others.

Susan clenched her jaw in irritation. It was Lucy.

"Oh Lucy, not again..." she murmured, exasperated that her sister never made any attempt to "restrain herself" unless _she_ was around. Making a mental note to herself to talk to Lucy about it, she shook her head dismissively and let her gaze drift further out, across the road to where the boys' school was.

Squinting, she saw the boys heading outside for recess…as well as one group that seemed to be in a bit of a tussle. A flicker of concern crossed her mind. She could just make out three of them who were busy ganging up on another teen. It was all fists and arms and legs; Susan couldn't recognize any of them from this distance.

She snorted and rolled her eyes, deciding not worry about it. "Boys," she muttered.

"What was that, Susan?"

"Oh, it's nothing." She turned to her friend again and brushed it off with an easy smile. "Just talking to myself. What were you saying again? Something about Jackson?"

"Oh yes, he's such a charmer. All the girls are jealous of Linda for snagging him first. Personally, I don't know what he sees in her," sniffed Mary-Lou disdainfully. "She's not even that pretty."

"Oh? Are you one of those 'jealous girls,' then?" teased Susan.

"Not at all!" Mary protested. "I'm merely pointing out a fact."

Susan raised her eyebrows and smirked. "I see."

"Oh don't do that," giggled Mary, playfully batting Susan's arm as she stood up and sauntered over to the vanity to brush her hair.

"Here, let me," said Susan, taking the brush from her friend and gently loosening the few tangles.

A few moments of silence passed, and Mary Lou sighed.

"Linda has her man…I wonder if I'll ever find a Prince Charming of my own. Oh, I _do_ hope he's as handsome as Jack. And princes aren't as easy to find nowadays."

Susan pursed her lips and said nothing. She continued to play with Mary's golden hair, now combing, now weaving intricate braids with deft fingers.

The words came out before she could think. "I had a prince, once. Almost."

"You did?" The mirror reflection of Mary's face lit up in interest. "What was he like?"

Susan clenched her teeth and kept braiding. What had she _done_? She promised herself that she'd leave it all alone! It was awful enough when Edmund and Lucy bragged about their last visit to…that place (with that rotten stinker of a cousin, _Eustace;_ of all people!); the last thing she needed was…

"Susan?"

She sighed. "Well…he was kind. Unassuming. Chivalrous."

"What did he look like?"

"Um…" Susan squirmed, but she knew Mary never _would_ let it go until she had all the details. "He was tall and strong, and he had…he had…I can't remember…" Susan bit her lip. She couldn't remember what he looked like…didn't _want_ to remember…and then one image hit her like a thunderbolt. She flinched.

Mary watched her, concerned. "Susan, are you alright?"

"He had…d-dark wavy hair and dark eyes," Susan finally blurted, shaking herself and reaching for a hairpin.

"Golly," sighed Mary, a dreamy smile spreading across her face. "He really _was_ a prince."

"Yes," said Susan, blinking rapidly. "He was."

"You said—'almost'." Mary raised her eyebrows. "What happened?"

Susan exhaled, closing her eyes. "Well…he lived very far away, and I…well, I'd rather not talk about it."

"Ah, a long-distance situation…alright. And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," added Mary with an apologetic pat on the arm.

Susan smiled and nodded, combing the last few strands of hair into submission and pushing away the awful squirmy feeling in her chest.

Mary's eyes widened as she looked in the mirror, and with reverent fingers she reached up to touch the beautifully woven twists and braids.

"Susan," she breathed, "where did you learn to do hair like _that?_"

Susan stared at her handiwork. Her voice was barely audible.

"I'm…not sure."

* * *

**A/N:** I'll give a pink, sparkly sugar cookie to anyone who caught on to the "Mary-Lou/Mary-blank" thing.


	5. A Lost Cinderella

**A/N:** Okay, so I missed my own deadline by one day but I'VE FINALLY UPDATED!!! *cues the Hallelujah Chorus* I've lately been suffering from a bad case of writer's block, but I've finally pushed through it! And as a thank-you for everyone's overwhelming support for this story, I've made an official trailer for it! A real trailer, mind you. Not a slide show. Go to my profile and check it out.

HAPPY LATE VALENTINE'S DAY!! And **congrats** to Deanalyn, who's FINALLY gotten engaged to her sweetheart, Troy! (It's about time, gwathel-nin!!)

Hope this chapter and the one coming up are worth the wait! I'll get to work on the next update right away!

* * *

Chapter 5: A Lost Cinderella

_New Year's Eve, 1942_

_Whizz!  
_

"Haha, got you!"

_Whizz!_

"Nyeh, missed!"

Snowballs and cheerful taunts shot through the chill December air. Children ducked behind snow forts and gleefully scooped up frozen ammunition to fling back at the opposing side, while others made snow angels or stacked lumpy white boulders on top of each other for snowmen. It was Winter; a glorious, happy winter that held onto the afterglow of Christmas while anticipating the new year to come.

Oblivious to the noise and flying snow a few feet away from him, Warren sat on a cold park bench, huddled up in his coat, eyes darting over the pages of his new book: _The Scarlet Pimpernel_. He'd gotten it brand-new as a Christmas gift. The moment he'd picked it up and drank in the first paragraph, the story captured his imagination…or rather seized it in an iron grip with no intention of letting go until he finished.

An impolite snowball thudded against his back, wrenching him back to the real world with a start. Somewhat irritated, he turned…and a surprised smile spread across his face.

"Johnny! I should have figured it was you who threw that…"

"Hullo, Warren!" The boy grinned back at him, a mop of curly black hair flopping in his eyes and a bold red scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. "I had a feeling I'd find you with your nose stuck in a book. And it's _John_ now, not Johnny."

He jogged over and collapsed into the seat beside Warren, letting out a long, cloudy breath. Soon the two boys were laughing over past school troubles and catching up on lost weeks.

"So how's life without me?" asked John in nonchalant manner, digging his hands into his pockets for warmth.

"Nice and peaceful," retorted Warren, trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face. "But what about you? I thought you were spending the hols with your parents; what on earth are you doing here?"

"Looking for you! I came by your house but you weren't there, and then your Mum said I might find you here, so here I am and here you are!"

"But why were you looking for me?"

John feigned an hurt expression. "What kind of a cold-hearted question is that? Do I _need_ a reason to see you? Do I _need_ a reason to talk to you? Really…"

"Fine," laughed Warren. "You've made your point. It's good to see you, too."

"I should hope so," he huffed. A second of silence passed, and he grudgingly added, "Alright then, so maybe I do have my reasons…"

"I knew it," Warren groaned. "You always do when you descend on me from out of the blue and act chummier than usual..."

"_At any rate_," John cut in, rolling his eyes as he rose from his seat and faced Warren, "I was wondering...my dad's throwing a big party back at the manor tonight, and I've convinced him to invite you. And anyone else you'd like to bring. Which reminds me, have you found a girl yet?"

Warren gave his friend an incredulous look. "You have got to be joking."

"Oh come _on_, Warren!" The boy punched his arm with an impish grin and danced away again, like a reckless young bird itching to fly. "Get your nose out of your books and do something crazy and impulsive for once! You need a girl, for Pete's sake! It's New Year's!"

He pulled Warren to his feet and they began walking to the edge of the park.

"And besides," he added glumly, "I'll be positively bored to tears if you don't come. All the grownups will be busy sipping champagne, acting rich and discussing politics, making the war sound completely dull and I'll be sitting in a corner somewhere wishing I'd never been born. You wouldn't do that to your pal John, would you? You're not that cruel, are you?"

Warren merely returned the puppy-dog look with a mild glare, tightened his protective grip on the book and quickened his pace.

John trotted alongside and raised his eyebrows. "I say! You owe me one. Don't think I've forgotten."

"Ugh, you just _had_ to bring that up, didn't you..."

"Yes I '_had_ to', so there. But only as a last resort!" Warren stopped as John faced him and crossed his arms, a smirk dancing on his lips. "What do you say?"

"I say it was stupid to wait and tell me at the last minute, because now there's hardly any time and Mum will..."

"Actually, I already talked to her," said John. "And she says it's perfectly fine for you to go. I've arranged _everything_; all you need to do is wear something decent. I have a feeling you'll clean up rather nicely. Sorry, but I'm not letting you get any excuses this time."

Warren sighed in defeat. John was a clown with a heart of gold (as well as one of the richer kids in school); the kind of person who is friends with anyone and everyone. He was especially good to Warren, despite his tendency for dragging him in and out of trouble at school. He'd befriended him when no one else would and kept the bullies off his back countless times. Warren _did_ owe him.

"Alright, alright. I'll go."

"Oh hurrah!" John gave a gleeful whoop of delight. "Now all we need to do is find a girl for you…"

"Oh _would_ you let up?"

"It's true!" protested John. But after a brief pause, he turned and eyed Warren in suspicion. "That is, unless you've already found one and haven't told me. Hmm?"

Warren awkwardly cleared his throat. "Well…"

"_Ooo-ooh_!" John crowed in triumph and elbowed Warren in the ribs. "By Jove, it's about time! Why didn't you tell me sooner? C'mon, then! What's her name?"

"It's nothing to get excited over," said Warren. "She hardly talks to me at all, and we've only met once or twice…"

"Well I can easily fix that." John winked.

Warren gave him a threatening glare. "Don't you dare…"

"Oh calm down," said John, rolling his eyes. "I won't do anything stupid. Just give me the name; I'm dying to know who's caught the eye of the bookworm."

Warren sighed. "Phyllis. She said her name's Phyllis."

"Phyllis, eh?" A perplexed look flashed across John's face. "I haven't heard of any Phyllises at St. Finbar's, and I know the name of every girl from that school. Is she from somewhere else?"

"No, it's definitely Finbar's."

"Hrmm…" John thought a moment, and then his face lit up. "Haha, I think we may have an alias on our hands, Warren! A mystery girl with a secret name; a Cinderella. This should be interesting…"

"Oh do let it go," pleaded Warren. "I'm already beginning to dread this New Year's party you've forced me into."

John pointed a threatening finger at him. "Don't you dare back out on me now, Warren Carmichael."

"I won't, I won't." Warren raised his arms in surrender. "I already said I'd go, didn't I? But you _promise_ that after this, we'll be even?"

"Cross my heart," said John, a solemn frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. It was only because he looked for it that Warren was still able to see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. And that always meant he had something up his sleeve.

"I swear, Johnny, you'll be the death of me someday," he muttered.

The boy growled. "I told you, it's _John_ now."

--

Susan ran a slender finger over the glistening tubes of lip color that stood invitingly on her mother's vanity. She chose two colors, one in each hand, and studied them carefully as she tried to decide which one to choose.

"Mmm, this one would complement my dress...Edmund? Which color do you think I should pick?"

"That's not the best question to ask me, Su...oh blast this confounded thing," grumbled Edmund, fumbling with his tie as he scowled in the mirror. "It won't behave itself."

Susan sighed and put down the lipstick for a moment to assist him. "Well, you certainly won't get it to behave if you treat it _that_ way. Here, let me do it." Turning his shoulders towards her, she pushed his hands out of the way and fussed with black silk.

Susan had always enjoyed getting dressed up and going to parties. She liked the powdery smell of makeup, the softness of fine fabric brushing against her legs, the sound of heels clacking alluringly against the floor and the warmth she felt inside when people looked at her with admiring eyes. She loved to feel beautiful and always had.

But there is a fine line between love and obsession. And the harder her siblings tried to pull her back, the closer Susan crept towards the edge.

"Has anyone seen my shoes?" asked Lucy, her voice in sing-song as she skipped through their mother's bedroom and peeped under the vanity. "I can't find them anywhere and Mum will be cross."

"It depends on which 'Mum' you're talking about," said Edmund, flashing a teasing grin at Susan. Normally she would have wrinkled her nose at him or laughed; but instead she sighed again in an awful grownup way and ignored the joke.

"There," she said crisply, giving his tie a firm pat. "It looks perfect now. I can't say the same about your hair though. It isn't..."

"I _refuse_ to slick it back," said Edmund, a look of disgust on his face. "I like it the way it is, thank you."

"Fine," huffed Susan, "but at least tackle it with a comb before we leave. I don't want my siblings looking like hooligans at the party."

"Well I, for one, enjoy being a 'hooligan' sometimes," laughed Lucy. "Remember the time when we—oh _there_ they are! How did they end up there?" She grabbed her runaway pair of shoes and tugged them onto her feet, rumpling her skirt in the process. Susan clucked her tongue in disapproval and turned to put the finishing touches on her makeup.

Minutes later, she smiled in satisfaction and twirled in place, the folds of her black skirt whispering against the air. "How do I look?"

Lucy pursed her lips and tilted her head to one side. "You look very..."

"Fancy," put in Edmund.

Lucy sent a light glare in his direction. "I was going to say _pretty_..."

"Alright, then," said Susan, raising her eyebrows at them. "What's wrong?"

"You look fine," assured her brother with a hasty smile, "it's just that I'm not used to seeing you with so much makeup on."

"I think you're beautiful," emphasized Lucy. "And the dress looks very becoming on you."

"Good." Susan smiled back at her and twirled again. "I want to look especially nice."

"You mean, you want to look especially nice for _Ian_." Lucy's smile became mischievous. Edmund said nothing, but his eyes grew cold and his right hand unconsciously reached for a sword hilt that wasn't there.

"Oh really, Lu," sighed Susan, "did you have to bring that up? It's bad enough being teased endlessly by you and nagged at by the boys. And look, Edmund's about to start lecturing me again and—"

"I'm sorry," Edmund cut in gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I don't mean to upset you. I just don't want another Prince Rabadash incident to happen," he added, lips twitching upwards. "You can't be too careful when it comes to suitors."

Susan felt utterly confused and gave him a blank stare. "Prince who? What are you talking about?"

"Oh don't tell me you've forgotten about _him_!" Lucy stifled a giggle and flopped on the bed, chin in hands. "The look on his face when he was dangling from that hook...and when Aslan turned him into a donkey. Absolutely priceless."

Edmund chuckled. "And it served him right, too, the scoundrel. He had no business courting my sister one moment and plotting Narnia's downfall the next."

"Narnia?" Susan murmured, her voice lost. For some reason, the name tasted sour in her mouth. Lucy's grin faded a little and she glanced at Edmund, confused and concerned. Edmund stared at Susan, his gaze intense.

"Yes. We ruled there, remember?"

"Oh." Susan blinked and forced a smile. "Yes, of course."

Narnia. She knew it well, and she could easily remember things about it: talking animals and walking trees, kings and castles, dryads, mermaids, magic...but that was all. They weren't memories to her anymore; they were simply facts. Dry, lifeless facts. There had been mermaids, but the color of their skin and the silvery music of their voices were gone. She knew there was a castle and that she had been queen, but she couldn't recall the weight of a crown, the vast, marble columns of a throne room or the heavy responsibility of ruling a country. All the things that made Narnia real to her were vanishing, leaving her with nothing but a shadow to hold on to. And the more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. Talking animals? Magic? They were things you found in fiction and fairy tales. Was it even possible for such things to exist in Reality?

Maybe it all felt shadowy for a reason. Maybe it never really happened. In the end, perhaps it had all been…pretend. Was that all it was? A fairy tale game? A pair of pretty glass slippers she was outgrowing?

The idea made sense to her. And Susan loved sense.

"Children!" Their mother's voice called from living room, breaking the awkward silence. "Hurry up; your father's got the car ready! You don't want to be late, do you?"

"Coming!" Susan called back, taking time for one final glance in the mirror. Smoothing her hair, she grabbed her coat and walked out into the hall, leaving Edmund and Lucy behind to share a long, troubled look.

She passed Peter's room and caught sight of him leaning his hands against the dresser, eyes half-closed, softly humming a tune to himself. Despite her hurry, the song caught her attention and held it firmly, somehow willing her to stop and listen.

She halted, her slender eyebrows furrowed. It was haunting and beautiful, and so…familiar. It stirred something inside her and whispered across her memory, seeping through the chinks in her mind like liquid moonlight. Where had she heard it before…?

Peter turned, and a pair of sad, ancient eyes met a pair of lost blue ones. Time stretched and something flickered between them, both seeking an understanding that neither was able to give.

"Come on," Susan finally blurted, shaking herself and motioning towards the front door. Peter smiled and took her arm, and the moment was gone.

"Let's go."


End file.
